Page 12 of Love Sick

“What is she talking about?” I demand, needing Alanna to explain.

“She could never shut up,” she says coolly as she approaches my bedside. “No wonder he hated her. He lovedme, not her.”

Alanna quickly bites her bottom lip, aware that she’s shared too much.

“Jonathan was Joy’s…husband? Lover?” I have pieces to a puzzle, but I don’t know what the picture is.

“No more talking!” Alanna screams, her hands shaking as she loads up the syringe with whatever drug she’s about to give me. “He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.”

Alanna is stuck on repeat as she injects my IV with the needle.

With my last coherent thought, I piece together what I know—Jonathan was Alanna’s patient; whether they were a “couple” remains to be seen.

Joy betrayed Luna because she needed money. So this was done out of greed. But that greed was done out of love for Jonathan.

And Jonathan is who?

Both of the women’s lover? Husband? Fiancé?

I’m not sure how Jonathan died. Alanna said he loved her so much his heart stopped working. Now I have my suspicions that that’s the case because she drove a fucking knife through it when she found him in bed with Joy.

Jesus Christ, this shitshow just gets worse.

Misha and Luna were just innocent victims caught up in the madness of two psychotic evil bitches. Although I know Misha wouldn’t want it, I feel sorry for the kid. He didn’t deserve any of this. And neither does Luna.

As I’m dragged under into a drug-induced coma, Misha comes out of hiding and whispers what we both know to be true.

“This is only the beginning…”

“That’s Big Bird. He’s from a TV show calledSesame Street.”

The sunlight streaming in from the barred window catches the yellow fur of the stuffed toy in my lap. I wish I could feel it beneath my fingertips. I think it would be soft. But I can’t because my wrists are bound by brown leather straps.

So are my ankles to the wheelchair I sit in.

I don’t remember my name.

But I don’t remember much of anything.

I don’t know who I was before. I don’t know who I am now.

What I do know, however, is a name which I can never forget.

Misha.

I don’t know why that name holds so much significance. It just does.

I want to ask so many questions, but I don’t remember the words. So I just sit here, silent, never speaking. It feels wrong to and on cue, my heart begins to ache. It aches for a loss I can’t remember. I just know the loss was of someone I loved deeply.

Was it Misha?

I don’t think so.

This feels like a different sort of love.

The orderly leaves me alone, not that I can blame him. I’m hardly any company. I wonder if I was before.

Big Bird stares back at me, and I wonder why his golden fur sings to me. It reminds me of dirty blond hair and…music.

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